Life Goes On
by spooky the spook
Summary: Sequel to Life After Death. Remy and Rogue have a hard road ahead of them as they struggle to heal from their latest tragedy. Post XMen 184.
1. Part 1

A/N: Alright, here we go again! Life After Death was intended to be a stand alone, one shot, and I plan on keepin' it that way. That said, I had more ideas to further the story, so figured I'd just set up a sequel to it. I have no set ending to this story, nor do I know if it'll ever end. When I get inspired with a new moment of the healing road Rogue and Remy are embarkin' on, I'll jot it down and post it up. Their story is far from over.

I do better with dialogueless stories, but this chapter just had a lot to say.

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In the dead of the night, a figure bathed in flame streaked across the starless sky. Like a shooting star, the burning light arced downwards toward the large mansion set alone on the vast grounds. Touching down lightly on a balcony of the Xavier Institute, Rogue opened the door, the fire surrounding her dying as she stepped inside.

Moving quickly to the nearest closet, she removed a large duffle bag and began stuffing it, haphazardly, full of clothing belong to both her and Remy. So focused on her task and so determined to make haste, she didn't realize that she was not alone in the room.

"What do you think you are doing?" a very familiar and disturbingly icy voice shattered the near silence. Startled, Rogue spun to face the figure just as the room was suddenly awash with light.

"Mama!" she exclaimed in surprise, her wide green eyes falling on Mystique's blue form standing stiffly by the door. Recovering quickly, Rogue's shock gave way to annoyance. "This is _my_ room, so maybe Ah should be askin' _you_ that."

Moving her hand from the light switch and placing it on her hip, Mystique's golden eyes narrowed at her adopted daughter.

"That is hardly the point, Rogue. I came here to stop you. You are making a big mistake," she replied, coldly.

"Oh, this is rich!" Rogue laughed, humourlessly, shaking her head. "Just 'cause they let ya in on tha team, don't mean ya know what's right. Ya got no right ta tell me what ta do."

Her expression suddenly softening, Mystique stepped toward her daughter, one hand outstretched. "I still consider myself your mother, and I just want what is best for you," she said, laying her hand on Rogue's arm.

"No, ya want what's best for _you_," Rogue spat, knocking Raven's hand away violently. "Ya snuck in here, disguised as someone else ta try ta seduce my boyfriend and break us up. Oh, and when that didn't work, ya made sure ya had a ticket back in here before waltzin' back in with some snivellin' coward claimin' he was tha perfect guy for me like some kinda arranged marriage! Did ya ever once stop ta think about what _Ah_ wanted?"

The instant her offered comfort was dismissed, the hardened expression returned to the shape shifter's face.

"Your relationship with Gambit is destructive, but you're too blind to see it. I'm not. Augustus would have been able to offer you something Gambit never – "

"Is that what you think of me?" Rogue suddenly cut in, her voice incredulous. Shooting daggers at Mystique with her eyes, she furiously started packing again. She needed to distract herself or else she'd have to fight harder to keep from hitting the other woman. "Ya think all Ah care about is touch? That Ah'd throw everythin' away for some guy Ah don't know just 'cause he could touch me?"

Mystique couldn't believe they were having this conversation after what had happened only hours ago. Rogue was no only defending the monster that had killed Pulse, among many other people, but she was running off with him! By staying with Gambit, she _was_ throwing everything away, just like he had done when he'd decided to join Apocalypse. Something Raven would never understand is how a piece of gutter trash like that damn Cajun could maintain such an unbreakable hold over her daughter. It was almost like he had her bewitched.

"At least he wasn't a murderer," Mystique's words stabbed like a dagger through Rogue's heart, causing the younger woman to immediately stop what she was doing. Slowly, she turned to face her mother, green eyes narrowed dangerously.

"How dare you..." she growled, her face etched in anger. "How dare _you_ call _him_ a murderer? Tell me, _Mystique_; just how many people have ya killed? How many lives have ya taken in cold blood, in your own right mind? Hell, ya even killed a dear friend'a tha X-Men, and they still voted ta give ya another shot. How dare ya judge him for somethin' that was beyond his control?"

She wanted to hit her. God, how she wanted to just throttle the woman she called 'mama' until her blue skin got bluer. How dare she have the audacity to call anyone else a murderer?

Clenching her fist, Rogue was practically shaking with rage, but somehow she managed to turn away without acting on her urges. Making a point of grabbing the framed photo of her and Remy from the top of her bureau, Rogue turned back to the balcony.

For a moment, Raven was silent as she absorbed all the mental blows Rogue had rained down on her. Everything that was said about her was true, but that didn't make her any worse than Gambit. He was a liar, and although he had managed to resist her, she was certain he was still a womanizer at heart. He would allow Rogue to leave her home and her family to be with him, and as soon as she'd helped him past all his 'issues', he would leave her. He was scum, and the bottom line was that he didn't deserve her daughter.

"How quickly you forget that he joined Apocalypse of his own free will. For that reason alone he should be held accountable for his actions, yet you still blindly believe that he's a good person and that you can save him," Mystique replied, bitterness creeping into her tone. "You know as well as I that this cannot end well, so why are you willing to give up everything you believe in and everything you fight so hard for just for _him_?"

Looking down at her bloodstained clothes, Rogue remembered the heartache she felt as she had helped gather the wounded; how hard it was to keep down the contents of her stomach as she realized there wasn't enough remaining of the dead to send home to their families; her indecision as she'd gazed upon Remy's huddled form. With her back still to Mystique, the southerner glanced at the photograph in her hands and smiled resolutely.

"Because Ah love him," she stated simply and honestly. "But Ah wouldn't expect _you_ ta understand that."

Walking slowly out onto the balcony, there was no more protesting from behind her as she took to the air. Not once did she look back, for if she did she would have seen the completely stricken look upon Mystique's face. Rogue could not have hurt her more if she had slapped her across the face.

She did understand.


	2. Part 2

A/N: Just a quick little warning and a question for all y'all. This story ain't gonna be pretty. It's very dark, and there are gonna be some not so nice descriptions throughout the chapters. Just so ya know.

And now the Question: Does it hurt the story having Remy transformed back, looks-wise? Would it be better to have his appearance still that of Death? That's the one part in the story I keep goin' back and forth on, so any help y'all could offer would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!

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The light flickered a moment before staying on, but it was obvious that the bulb was on its last leg. It was dying, just like everything else he touched. Dropping the tattered and bloody coat in the centre of the bathroom floor, Remy approached the sink. Gripping either side of it with his hands, he forced himself to face his reflection. Even though his appearance was back to normal, he could still see the black skin of Death lurking beneath the surface.

He couldn't remember what happened. He remembered all the gory details of what he had done as Death, and he could remember the heart wrenching agony of realizing all those deaths had been at his hands, but he couldn't remember what had happened in between. He couldn't remember the event that had destroyed Death and allowed Remy LeBeau to return. He still wore the costume that Apocalypse had given him, but the hair, the skin, it was all back to normal. And his eyes... his eyes would never be the same. They appeared now as they always had, but they were now so haunted. No poker face in the world could hide them.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror, he slowly unclasped the spiked collar from his neck and let it drop to hang buy the straps across his chest. Unfastening the buckled around his legs, he quickly grew frustrated by the binding costume. It kept him confined, restrained him, stopped him from being free. Free from Apocalypse's hold. The belt didn't seem to have an end; it was like it was moulded onto him. Wrenching desperately at it, he ignored the pain as the metal armour tore his shirt, scraping his side. Finally able to toss it too the ground, he tore at the clothing that remained until he was standing, naked and shivering, among the pile of scraps. His gloves had gotten torn and burned during the battle, allowing the blood to seep onto his hands. The blood would wash off, but the memories would remain forever.

He could remember how the new guy had pleaded with him. No, he had a name. Pulse.

No, a real name, but damn if he couldn't remember it. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd known it in the first place. He hadn't bothered to learn it. From the moment that man had been drug through the door by Mystique, Remy had hated him. He didn't know him, but he hated his purpose for being there, and hated him for going along with it.

Even so, no man deserved the torture Pulse had faced.

He had been no match for Gambit's speed and agility, even as Death, nor his fighting skills. The horseman could have taken him down quickly, but he had wanted to play with his prey first. Let him get a few hits in, let him think he had a chance. Hustle him. Then, just when he thought the win was in the bag, everything went to hell. Death had beaten him badly, and when he was too weak to fight back, he went in for the harshest blow. Pulse had tried to take his powers, not that he needed them to win, but there had to be consequences. He could still hear the sickening sounds as he drove his fingers into his victim's eye sockets; feel the texture of the eye as he tore it out with his bare hands. Pulse had screamed in horror, pain, shock... and Death laughed in his face. The other eye had soon followed, the blood spraying from the wound, staining his white hair red. Then he had allowed the wretched creature to crawl away, let him think he could still live before dashing all his hopes...

The memory continued to play out in Remy's mind, and no matter what he did he couldn't block it out. Reliving each moment now that Death no longer ruled made him ill, and he barely had time to drop to his knees in front of the toilet before it overtook him. He couldn't remember eating. He remembered all the awful things he'd done, but couldn't recall something as simple as eating. Somehow, though, his stomach found something to bring up. Something tinged with red.

Blood. More blood. It was everywhere. All he could see was red.

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A/N: Now for the review responses!

WhytMajic: Glad ya loved Mystique in this. Despite her faults and Milligan's horrible characterization, I believe she truly cares about Rogue and wanted to show that.

Rogue181: There are so many issues with the Antarctica incident that many fans feel are left unresolved. For her to leave him again would just break my heart. They've been through so much, she had to stay.

BJ2: I think this is one of the greatest compliments that you're willing to my version of a character a chance when you so despise the canon version. Thank you, and I hope I don't disappoint.

Jean1: Glad ya liked. I kept battin' around two names that I thought should be waitin' for Rogue in her room, but eventually tossed both out and realized that it had to be Mystique.


	3. Part 3

Despite her battle worn and weary appearance, Rogue had managed to acquire them a room at a cheap motel not far from the place still stained in blood and charred from explosions and fire. It was amazing what a little extra money and a flirty smile could do. Tomorrow, maybe they could find something more permanent, or maybe they'd travel. She was leaving the decision up to Remy... if only he would talk to her. He hadn't spoken a word since everything had come to a head and Apocalypse had been defeated.

Landing in a desolate area nearby, Rogue slung the duffle bag over her shoulder and walked the rest of the way to the motel. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside and closed it behind her before looking around the dark room. Remy was nowhere in sight, but she could see the light on in the bathroom through the partially open door. The motel room was fairly small and the sparse furniture consisted of a double bed, a large bureau that was missing a drawer, matching nightstands and lamps, one of which was missing its shade, a phone and a television in the corner that she was certain wouldn't work. The white walls were stained yellow from smoke and there were burns in the carpet. Setting the luggage on the bed, Rogue's expression rang of sadness as Mystique's words from earlier came back to haunt her. What if she was making a huge mistake? What if she was throwing away the life she had grown so accustomed to for nothing?

Shaking her head, she forced herself to approach the bathroom, her steps nervous and hesitant.

"Remy, Ah'm back," she said, her voice portraying confidence she only wished she really felt. Grasping the edge of the door, she slowly pushed it open. "Ah got some clean – oh my Gawd..."

Rogue's eyes widened and her hand moved swiftly to cover her mouth as she took in the scene before her. Remy's bloody clothes were in tatters on the floor, and he was huddled by the toilet, completely nude, his arms folded on the seat and his head resting over the bowl. A million emotions flooded over Rogue as she stared, unable to move for a moment, but one quickly overtook them all: concern. Rushing to his side she crouched down, lightly brushing his hair back with one gloved hand. Upon closer observation she could see that he was shivering and his tanned skin was glistening with perspiration. She suspected that his skin would feel cold and clammy to the touch, but this would have to remain speculation. She could smell the stench of vomit and her stomach lurched as she reached over to flush the toilet. The loud noise seemed to rouse him and he slowly raised his head, but not enough for her to see his eyes. Much like his refusal to speak, he had yet to look her in the eyes.

"Shh, it's okay, baby," Rogue said softly, placing her other hand on his back for support as she continued to brush soothingly through his hair. "Why don't we get ya all cleaned up and inta some nice, clean clothes, huh?"

She wanted an answer, whether it verbal or a simple nod of his head, but she had to settle for him releasing his hold on the toilet seat and leaning back into her hand. Helping him to his feet and into the tub, she tried to keep her eyes on his face and her mind on the task. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him naked before, but it seemed so long ago now when their powers had been subdued. At the time, she hadn't had to just look, she had been able to touch, kiss, caress...

No more. Besides, this was hardly the time to be ogling his body and, considering the current state he was in mentally, it was easier to get her mind back on track and focus on the task at hand. Removing her gloves, she turned them inside out before slipping them back on, the cleaner side of them now facing out. With him sitting in the tub, the stopper not in place, she adjusted the temperature of the water and turned the showerhead on. Methodically yet tenderly she shampooed the blood and flesh from his hair, rinsing it clean. Finding several wash cloths and towels in a small cupboard, she resumed her position beside the bathtub. Catching one finger gently under his chin, she tilted his head up so she could see his face. She was surprised at how easily he allowed her to do this after avoiding her gaze for so long, but any positive feeling that they were making progress was dashed as he closed his eyes before she could glimpse them. Sighing deeply, she wet the cloth and carefully cleaned his face and neck. The uniform he had been wearing kept the blood from most of his body, so only his hands remained stained. Using extra soap and a slightly rougher touch, she thought she heard him whimper as she washed the blood from his hands, but when she cast her eyes to his face, she found his head bowed once more.

"Now, if ya can get yaself dried off, Ah'll just grab ya some clean clothes. Ah'll be right back," she said, standing and making her way quickly out of the room. Pulling the door to behind her, she managed to make it to the bed before her legs collapsed beneath her. Tossing her soaked and soiled gloves into the wastebasket, Rogue buried her face in her hands and tried to stifle the sounds of her sobbing.

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A/N: No blabberin' this time, right on to the reviews!

Rogue181: Glad I piqued your interest. Hope ya enjoy where this goes.

BJ2: Your review made me squeal. ;D Gambit is my all time favourite character, and the one I enjoy writing most, so it's great to know that what rings true to me for his reactions rings true for others as well. thank you. Also, thanks for your feedback on my question. Not sure if it was completely clear in the last chapter, but Remy doesn't have the black skin or any physical sign of Death, but when he looks in the mirror, he's still haunted by the image and still sees himself that way.

ishandahalf: Now I know I got a Rogue/Remy story when the infamous Ish reviews it! ;) Thankies!

LoneRaven: I know, right? I sat here for like two days thinkin' "Are people even readin' my story? I can't see! And if they are, they can't even review!". It was very annoying. :D Anyways, I totally love your fan vids, so I'm really glad you're likin' my fic!

Anamarie: Another squeal from me. As much as I adore my poor, abused Cajun, I can't help but torture him. Glad to know his reactions are believable, and that you're anticipatin' more.

Gambitlover21: is loved aww! Always nice to hear that the emotions I'm puttin' into this get felt on the other end. And already read and reviewed your last chapter, darlin'.

Tammy: Thanks for the feedback on my question! For this story, I think I'm gonna stick with the fact that no physical aspects of what Apocalypse did to him remain, only the emotional aftermath, but I am tempted to write another, very different, one-shot that deals with the other side of the coin. I prolly will write that this weekend, perhaps. And glad you enjoyed the Rogue/Mystique convo. If they don't talk in the comics and Mystique just becomes another teammate, I'll be even more irrate. Or maybe not, considerin' I won't be readin' the title then, but whatever. ya know what I mean, I hope.

Prexistence: This soon enough for ya? ;) By all means, hon, rant away. I ain't gonna stop ya. Thanks for the review! glad ya like.

Whew!


	4. Part 4

Gambit had no idea how long he'd been sitting there. He'd been sick several times, his throat burned and his insides hurt from the strain, but it was nothing compared to what he had done to others. He could remember charging up the very molecules inside Pulse's body with just a thought. He had envisioned them in his mind as they began to glow, to burn, to dissolve. Only when the man's entire body was positively screaming with energy did he release his hold. After that, it was all over. The sickly, wet sound of the explosion, the sight of meat and bone torn to shreds, now unrecognizable as specific human parts, would haunt him forever. He wondered if he still held those powers, but was too afraid to test them. He hoped he didn't have them, that he didn't have any.

Hope. Now there was an odd word. He wasn't certain he understood the meaning of it anymore. Everything was so dark, desolate... hopeless. Another shiver ran through his body, now covered in a cold sweat. He retched again, but there was nothing left to bring up but his stomach itself. He thought he heard a voice through the fog in his mind, but it didn't quite register as reality. Someone was touching him, weren't they? The touch was so tender that it had to be a dream. It wasn't until the loud gush of water right below his head finally washed the memories to the back of his mind, allowing him to focus. It was Rogue. She was really there. When she'd left earlier after getting the room, he'd had his doubts that she would ever return. Part of him wished she wouldn't. Part of him expected history to repeat itself, and for her to abandon him again, this time of her own free will. The part of his heart that was still beating wanted to soar that she had come back, but it remained grounded by the fact that she shouldn't have.

Mystique had been right all along. He didn't deserve her.

For some reason, though, she loved him. No matter what problems they'd been having lately, the gentle way she helped him into the tub, how softly her fingers massaged through his hair, he could never again doubt this fact. He didn't deserve her but, Dieu, how he needed her right now. He couldn't bring himself to refuse her help any more than he could bring himself to look at her. He knew she loved him, but he couldn't bear to look in her eyes. He knew they had changed. There was no way she could ever look at him the same after what he had done. He couldn't bear to see the anguish, the confusion, the pity, the disgust... he knew it would all be there. He knew he should send her away. She would only grow to hate him as time went on. But he couldn't, not with her touching him so softly, washing away the blood, cleansing away his sins. He whimpered quietly as she moved on to his hands. He knew they would never be clean. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the blood would always linger just below the surface, just as it would remain fresh in his mind.

Then she was walking away. So strong. How could she be so strong? Now alone in the room, Remy shakily crawled out of the tub, careful not to step on the clothing still scattered on the floor. Taking the large towel she'd left behind, he very methodically dried himself off, forcing himself to think only of this small task. If he could do this, take everything step by step, things would be easier. Don't think ahead, don't think back, don't think of anything but his current actions.

She was taking longer than expected. Had she left him again? Maybe this time had been too much. Maybe she had realized what he had earlier: that there was no hope. But no, he could hear her in the other room. How could she be so strong? The answer was simple.

She couldn't.

He could hear her quiet sobs through the paper thin walls. He was ripping her apart, tearing her down, piece by piece. She was determined to make sure he survived this, but who would be there to see to it that she did the same?

He knew that she didn't want him to see her break. She wanted to appear strong for him. He could go out there now, _should_ go out there now and attempt to comfort her, but what comfort could he offer? There was none. No, he would wait. He would wait as long as it took for her to dry her tears, compose herself, and waltz back in here like everything was fine. Her voice wouldn't falter, her instructions would be clear, but he knew her eyes would betray her. He just wouldn't look at them. He'd allow her to keep up the charade, both for him and for herself.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Remy lowered the seat on the toilet and sat down. He could no longer hear her. She would be back soon, he knew it this time. He knew she hadn't left. He looked back down at his hands. The skin was no longer black and the blood had been cleaned completely away, but he could still see it. He could always see it.

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A/N: Here we go again! I sat down last Sunday and wrote like four parts. The inspiration was flowin' like water that day! But since I haven't had much time to write since, I figured I should spread the chapters out a little instead of dumpin''em all in one big lump, then havin' no follow up for days. Dunno why I felt like sharin' that, but there ya have it. And now for the reviews!

LoneRaven: You're hooked on my fic? Eee! That's awesome. Merci!

Prexistence: So glad I got such an emotional reaction outta ya. Not that I wanna make ya cry or nothin', but ya know. ;) In answer to your questions, yes and yes. As this is only the first night I'm showin' pretty much every detail. As time goes on, I plan on skippin' some stuff and lapsing some time to show how their journey progresses. As for the others, I do have one guest start slated to appear already, although whether it will be just to speak with Rogue, or with both of them I haven't decided yet. But don't worry, the X-Men will not be forgotten in this.

ishandahalf: Hopefully Remy'll realize that too, that he also has to help himself. One cannot be completely dependent on another person forever.

BJ2: Another squealworthy review. The fact that I'm saving a character for you that you despise, and making you enjoy reading a couple you've grown to hate just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Thanks bunches!

Tammy: Thanks so much for the review! It's hard to work around years of bad canon characterization, so I'm so glad ya feel I'm gettin' the characters right, and that their actions and reactions are believable.

Anamarie: I love that you felt exactly what I'm goin' for. Everything has a reason and significance, and sometimes it's in the smaller things that the true depth of one's pain really shows. And what's happening to Remy is happening to both of them, though they handle things much differently. Thanks for the feedback!


	5. Part 5

For a few minutes, Rogue allowed her strong facade to crumble. It hurt so much to see him like this, so tortured and helpless, but what hurt most at the moment was the fresh doubts in her mind.

She couldn't do this. It was too hard; it hurt too much.

He was so broken, shattered; she didn't think she had it in her to pick up all the pieces. Worse than that, there was a small part of her hiding in the shadows that simply didn't want to. This part actually blamed him completely for his actions. He had chosen to follow Apocalypse. He had allowed that beast to transform him into a monster. Even if his mind was no longer his own after this point, if he hadn't made these choices, Death wouldn't have killed all those people. This small part of her would never forgive him for that.

Or maybe it was herself that she shouldn't forgive. How often had she pushed him away? How often had she seen him relegated to the background and said nothing? What had she done that had prevented him from coming to her first with his choice and his reasons? No, she was no innocent either, especially not with what she was currently thinking.

It would be so easy to just get up and walk out. She could return to the X-Men, claim a lapse of judgment and be welcomed back with open arms. She could cry on Logan's shoulder, stay up the rest of the night talking with Bobby, and finally curl up in her own bed in her own room where she was warm and safe. No, not her room; _their_ room.

Sure, it would be easy to walk out on him, leaving him to fend for himself again, but everywhere she looked she would be reminded of him. Every minute of every day she would sit and wonder where he was and how he was coping. Every night her heart would ache as she wondered where he was spending his night. Would he be thinking of her as well? Or would his memories continue to haunt his every thought until it all became too much?

She had to stay. Whenever she had needed him, he had been there for her. He had helped her through her own bout of blindness; had sought her out after awakening from the coma she had put him in; he had forgiven her for leaving him to die, and saw it as a new chance at life when she had stolen heaven away from him. She was as much to blame for their rocky relationship as he was, maybe even more so, and now when he needed her most she was considering leaving him without a word.

Disgusted with herself, Rogue roughly brushed away the remnants of her tears. Rooting through the duffle bag of clothing, she found a pair of dark sweatpants and a t-shirt. Getting to her feet, she straightened her back and rolled her shoulders. Holding her head up high, she walked resolutely the few steps back to the bathroom door.

"Ah got some clothes, but we're gonna have ta pick up a few thangs tamorrow. Toothbrushes and tha like," she announced, pushing the door open and stepping inside once again. She'd have to slip out early and pick up some garbage bags and cleaning supplies to tidy up the room and dispose of the old clothing before checkout time. Luckily, she'd grabbed her wallet in her rush, though she had no idea where Remy's was. Probably in his duster, with his X-Men uniform, presumably lost forever.

He was sitting on the toilet lid, his head lowered and his hands held, palm up, before him. At the sound of her voice he slowly lowered them. At least he'd had the presence of mind to cover up. He seemed still able to function in some aspects. He had gotten out of the tub and dried off without her assistance. She just wished she knew how deeply his mind was affected.

"Now Ah'm gonna let ya get dressed, then Ah'm gonna have ta shoo ya on outta here," Rogue continued, her voice sounding peppy and energetic, a direct contrast to the exhaustion she felt inside. Even though he wasn't watching her, she lifted her arm up and, turning her head to the side, sniffed loudly before waving her hand in front of her face. "Ah'm in desperate need of a shower myself."

It's always strange how easy it is to fall back on humour at the worst of times. Holding the pile of clothing out to him, she didn't make a move to leave just yet.

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A/N: It appears the first night is gonna end with Part nine, so this puts us over half way there! Where our heroes go from there is anyone's guess. ;D Now, for reviews!

Loneraven: I often wonder if any of the J&Q crew read this, so thanks for your steadfast reviews! Glad you're findin' the characterizations believable.

Anamarie: You're very welcome! ;) seriously, though, the way Marvel often treats this connection and the way some fans want Rogue to move on instantly just wounds me. You don't move on from the love of your life at the drop of a hat, and a connection like that just doesn't go away. It may get strained over time, but I can't believe that it would disappear. Thank you for the encouragement that others feel this way as well.

ishandahalf: ooh, yes. Easy resolutions are never fun nor believable, and one persons actions can have lasting affects on many people. Thanks for the review!

RemysRogue: I was wonderin' how far I'd get into this thing before someone made that suggestion. Chapter 4, not bad. Only took me three chapters to get a veiled threat. winks at Prexistence As of yet, I cannot confirm or deny the touch factor. I'm pretty much keepin' all options open, and lettin' the characters write themselves, so my actual plannin' really doesn't stretch too far ahead. But your suggestion is duly noted, chere. ;)

WhytMagic: Is it wrong of me to take such great pride in makin' others cry? It is a major compliment that I'm able to move ya that much, so thanks bunches, babe! And you and I both know how much I adore bein' unpredictable, so yay for that too! So glad I'm keepin' ya guessin', and that you're enjoyin'!

Tammy: Another thanks for the 'connection' bit. Check my words to Anamarie on that subject. And I hope Gambit's POVs help ya get at least as much of an understanding as he has as to what's goin' on inside him right now. As for when or if they'll start talkin' again, we'll both just have to wait and see. I do love to write his accent, so here's hopin' I'll get the chance!

Rogue14: thanks for the review! Glad you're enjoyin' it!

BJ2: Ah, my favourite former Romy fan. is hugged Your reviews always make me both happy and sad at the same time. It's very odd, but all good. ;D Glad you're feelin' the connection too, darlin'. There story is one that is both heartwrenching and beautiful, and I maintain that there is always hope.


	6. Part 6

As predicted, when Rogue reentered the bathroom, her voice was strong and confident. Remy hated that she felt she had to put on a brave face for him, but he hated even more that it was true. He needed someone to be strong for him right now when he couldn't be himself. He knew how much he was hurting her, and this knowledge only increased his self loathing. Maybe he should have listened to Mystique. Maybe he should have backed off and gave her a chance of happiness with someone else.

But why should he give her up? If she wanted to be with him, why should he push her away? Why do people believe you have to love someone more to let them go than to fight for them? Here she was, helping, joking, dying inside, and all of it for him. He hated being dependent on her, on anyone, but he didn't seem to have an alternative in the hand life had just dealt him. He needed her to survive.

One day at a time. If he could just make it through this night, this one, long night, then tomorrow would be a new day. A new day to endure, and he couldn't do it alone. Since they'd started sharing a room, he'd grown so used to the quiet sound of her breathing that he wasn't sure he could sleep without it.

Wasn't sure he could sleep anyways. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was red...

But she was still standing there, waiting for him to do something. Slowly, he stood up, causing her to take a step back. All his movements felt so slow lately. Taking the clothes from her, he saw her snatch her hands back through the hair that hung, dripping, in front of his eyes. She wasn't wearing her gloves. Without a word, he moved to the other room, leaving her to her shower. He didn't dare say anything, for fear of what he would hear. All physical traces of Death had been banished, but he could still see them in his mind's eye when he looked in the mirror. Would his voice be the same? Would the accent that he retained after all these years away from the Bayou still be nonexistent? Would his voice still hold that cruel edge? If, by some miracle, he laughed, would the sound still send shivers down his spine?

It was best not to say anything.

Closing the door behind him, Remy changed into the clothes he was given. Folding the towel carefully, he placed it on the dresser before fixing his gaze on the duffle bag at the foot of the bed. Lifting it up to move it, something within caught his eye. It was a framed photograph of him and Rogue smiling for the camera and looking, in every essence of the word, happy. It was painful to see. He had so many regrets, so many things that he would change over the past few years if given the chance. Right now, he'd give just about anything to see her smile like that again, and to be able to smile at all himself.

Debating for a moment, he eventually managed to leave the duffle bag unzipped, though he pulled it closed so it wasn't gaping open, displaying the rumpled and hastily packed clothing. Approaching the side of the bed closest to the outside door, he gingerly stood the picture on the nightstand as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Pulling back the covers, he crawled into bed, staying as close to one side as possible. Tucking the blankets up under his chin, he waited for the shaking to subside. He was still so cold. He felt as if he might never be warm again.

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A/N: Straight to the reviews!

WhytMajic: Well, ya don't have to, but ya know I love to hear it. Hee, like that name, did ya? Thankies, darlin'.

Loneraven: Soon enough? And don't ya just hate it when the thing goes all wonky? Although when that happens to me, chances are it's my comp, not the site.

Rogue14: I actually think this one is even shorter... Sorry about the length of the chapters, I find them short myself. But as I'm showin' each character's perspective of the same moments in time, each spanning only a few minutes, it's hard to make the chapters any longer. Have no fear, though! As the story progresses, I predict the events forcin' my style to change up some and the chapters to get longer. Hang in there!

ishandahalf: No way could anyone make the choice she did and not have some regrets. Thanks for the review and glad ya agree with that. A perfect character is a boring and unrealistic one. It's their flaws that make them interesting and human.

Rogue181: Kinda like BJ2's reviews for me, eh? ;D I always say that if I can make ya feel somethin', then it's a success. Glad you're enjoyin' it!

BJ2: Yay, my point is made! I often find myself defending that it is not the couple that is bad or ill fitted, but the writers that refuse to progress and try something new. The characters did not ruin each other by being together, it was the writers that ruined them. A relationship should never define any two characters, but enhance them. Once again, ya made my night, hon. As you await notifications, I await your reviews. ;)

Anamarie: He really is wounded, and I'm glad that's comin' across so well. He's got so much to regret, so much to feel guilty for that his soul is beyond wounded. I hope Rogue can help him too.

Tammy: ooh, your review made me squeal!I'm glad you're enjoying the execution of it all and looking forward to more. It would be so much more difficult for them to deal with this with outside interference from every corner, so I'm glad the other X-Men aren't terribly missed. And I'm also glad that the POVs aren't bothering anyone. I feel the story would lose a great deal if it was shown solely from one perspective. We need to see the feelings and thoughts of both of them to truly understand just how this effect each of them alone, as well as them together. Thanks so much for the feedback!

Nicole Wagner: Ah, the Deadly Gambit. Glad you're enjoyin' this!


	7. Part 7

The silence between them was deafening and Rogue began to grow fidgety. Just as she was beginning to doubt that Remy even understood what she had said, he slowly rose to his feet. Instinctively, she took a step back from him. She didn't know how to act around him, how to react. Letting go of the clothes as he reached out to take them, she quickly pulled her hands back, clutching them to her chest. Now, more than ever, she couldn't risk touching him. It was bad enough living with her own memories of those horrific events. If she had to relive them through his eyes, that wouldn't do either of them any good. Besides that, she was truly terrified of what she would see in his stolen memories; of what she would feel.

Watching the door close behind him, her fear quickly turned to sadness. His movements were so lifeless, almost robotic. If he shut himself down emotionally, could she ever pull him back out of his shell?

_It's just tha first night. Give him some time_, she told herself.

Drawing her eyes away from the door, she kicked aside some of his fallen clothing. Most of the blood had dried by the time he'd discarded it, so the floor wouldn't take long to clean up. She'd slip out early in the morning when the nearby store was just opening and pick up a few things. It wasn't like she was going to get any sleep. She knew she'd lie awake and listen to him, waiting for him to say something, to reach out to her. Even if it never happened, she would wait.

Stripping off her X-Men uniform, she looked at it for a long moment before folding it neatly. She wasn't ready to completely let go yet. After all, there was always a chance...

Stepping into the shower, she let the water wash over her as hot as she could handle. She relished in the feel of each tiny drop massaging her skin; the heavy, slick feeling of her long hair sticking to her back. This was the first time in days that she had felt _normal_. She let the heat soothe her tired muscles, the steam calm her restless soul. It was moments like these that made life worth living. The simple things that so many took for granted, that could offer comfort when it was most wanted. Maybe if she started by helping him regain these simple pleasures, the rest would come on its own in time.

Not until the water started to run cold did Rogue finally turn off the tap. Wrapping her long hair up in a towel, she used the other to dry herself off before securing it tightly around her body. She hadn't expected Remy to change in the other room, so she had left the clothing out there. Silently opening the bathroom door, she turned off the light before it could disturb him. Blinking, she waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark before entering further into the room. The only light in the room was that of the streetlight outside reflecting through the pale curtain over the single window. Remy lay in bed on his side facing toward the outside door, his back toward her. He had left as much of the bed as possible empty, presumably for her, and she didn't know how to feel about his. Unsure if he was asleep or awake, she silently snuck across the room where he had set the duffle bag neatly on the bureau. Searching through, she pulled various articles from the bag: underwear, plaid pajama bottoms, a long sleeve shirt; but she didn't stop there. She had to be cautious, so she added a pair of gloves and a pair of socks to the pile. She hated sleeping with socks on, but she didn't have much of a choice this time. Too much was at risk.

Walking back over to her side of the bed, she waited silently for a moment, listening to the sound of his breathing. It was fairly slow and steady, though she thought she heard it hitch a time or two. Eventually, she turned her back on him and dressed as quickly as possible. She felt nervous, and then she felt silly for feeling nervous, but things were just so strange. Towel drying her hair as well as she could, she awkwardly sat on her side of the bed. Tucking her feet under the covers, she turned to face his back, her eyes lingering on his still form for a moment. God, how she wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him, run her fingers through his still damp hair. Swallowing hard, she averted her eyes only to discover something unexpected. The framed photo she had grabbed just to spite Mystique was sitting on the nightstand, facing him. Staring at it with wide eyes, Rogue quickly turned away and absently slipped beneath the covers, her back to Remy and her position mirroring his. Try as she might, she couldn't hold back the flood of emotion that rushed over her.

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A/N: So many squealworthy reviews, so little time! ;)

Loneraven: Damn, you're fast! Part 6 wasn't posted but five minutes and I already had my first review! Awesome.

Tammy: Glad there were some bits in there that ya really liked. I always hated that "if you love something, you set it free" line; good thing ol' Rems is a fighter, eh? Thanks so much for the wonderful compliments. I so hope Rogue doesn't get dumbed down in Carey's run when it comes to showing how she deals with the situation.

Anamarie: Pleased you liked the picture bit too. It's all the little bits and pieces that keep him grounded.

Rogue14: I'm happy to say that after this part, they'll start to get a little longer. :D

Rogue181: I am the angst monger! Seriously, though, I'm so glad their emotions are coming across so strong.

BJ2: I love your analisis of the chapter, and I'm so happy you're enjoyin' the whole mess I've made of my poor Cajun. Ya really got the description spot on there.

WhytMajic: Seems the picture bit was quite popular. I can see it in my mind, how it looks, and I just wanna hug them. Or hunt down Marvel. Or both. Glad you're enjoyin'!


	8. Part 8

A/N: I was of about a million minds as to how to handle this part, and this is what came of it. More notes at the end.

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He could hear the quiet sounds of her crying and it tore at his fragile heart. Despite what she had assumed, Remy had been awake the entire time. First he had focused on the sound of the shower, but it was far too faint even through the thin walls. Then he had simply laid there, staring at the framed photograph on the nightstand, but nothing could block out the memories. Not even the good memories the picture provided were enough to fight off the gruesome ones of the day. He had tried to close his eyes and block them out, but it only made things worse. The images became clearer in the dark.

After what felt like hours, the faint rush of water was cut short and the door to the bathroom opened. No sooner had a thin sliver of light crept across the room when it vanished leaving the windows as the sole source of light once more. Slowly, Remy's eyes travelled over to the bureau. There she stood, silhouetted by the light that danced across her smooth skin. And skin was something there was definitely a lot of seeing as she was only wearing a towel. She was a vision. Dieu, how he'd missed her. Even before this whole mess, he had missed her. Things hadn't been the same since Sage had boosted their powers again. Tensions had arisen between them, only multiplied ten fold now that they knew what they were missing. For a while, they had been serious about trying to fix things, had even gone to therapy with Emma which was a total waste of time, but Mystique had fucked that up right good with her little game. She had placed seeds of doubt in both their minds and everything only got worse. Near the end it hadn't been as much a relationship as a charade. A habit.

So much he would change.

He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the very thought of her changing behind him took all his willpower to keep him from turning around. Finally, he felt her weight settle on the other side of the bed and, after a long moment, it shifted as she lay down. It was only seconds later that he had heard her start to cry. He tried to pretend he didn't hear her, like he had in the bathroom earlier, but this time there was no wall between them.

At least not in the most literal sense of the word. They had built up emotional walls long ago. Sometimes they cracked, sometimes they crumbled, but they always seemed to repair themselves. All he had to do was hide behind these walls, pretend he was still asleep, but before he knew what he was doing he was turning over. The instant he moved he heard her gasp and felt her shaking halt completely as her body stiffened. Facing her back now, he let his eyes travel from her wet hair splayed across the pillow to her shoulders, visibly rigid through her shirt. She tried to be so strong. For him. She was giving up so much. For him. Everything she was doing right now was for him, and he was just letting her do it. He needed her to be the strong one, to pick up all the pieces, but he hadn't been prepared to deal with her falling apart as well. She couldn't do this alone. She needed him just as much as he needed her. She needed to know he was grateful, that he did need her but also that he was willing to fight if she was willing to stay by his side.

Not realizing that he had had even the slightest thought to the future, to getting through this, Remy remained focused on the present. Hesitating for a long moment, he took a deep breath and reached out to her in every sense. Laying his hand gently on her arm, his heart panged at how she winced at his touch but he didn't back out. After what felt like forever he felt her slender fingers, clothed in a silky fabric, softly slide over his. Slowly she rolled over onto her back, her head tilting to the side and her tear filled eyes searching for his.

This time, he didn't shy away.

When their eyes met, Remy felt as if his worthless, battered heart had started beating again. There were so many emotions swirling within the depths of her emerald eyes, but the overwhelming pain and sadness outweighed them all. He could see hints of what he had feared: anger, hate, fear, disgust, but mixed with everything else he knew, deep down, that these weren't directed at him as much as at his actions. Death's actions. He could never fault her for blaming him when he so strongly blamed himself as well.

The most startling realization, though, was that among all these negative emotions, he could catch a glimpse of something positive. She was surprised that he had reached for her, but more than that, he could see it clear as day: hope. Hope that her choice would not be in vain. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see her raise her hand. Her fingertips grazed his forehead in a feather light touch as she brushed his unruly bangs from his face. Closing his eyes and finally breaking the powerful gaze, he slipped an arm around her waist and laid his head upon her chest. With the sound of her heartbeat playing in his ears and the feel of her hand repetitively stroking through his hair, Remy finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep, held safely in her warm embrace.

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A/N: Since I took so long for the last update, and am currently almost finished writin Part 11, I figured I'd post this bit while I had teh time today. So I really struggled where to go with this one. Was it too soon for a breakthrough of any sort? Who should make the first move? Am I jumpin' the gun? Eventually, this is what came of it. Hope y'all enjoyed! One part left of the first night, then we get to move on.

Loneraven: I'm very sorry to hear about your troubles. hugs Glad ya enjoyed the chapter, though.

ishandahalf: Love your description of the symbolism. I really need to dust off my sketch pad and illustrate some of the bits of this story. That image really does stick in my mind.

Rogue14: This a little better for length? grins Keep an eye out for Part 10. I think you'll like that one.

Rogue181: I have been readin' this arc, but I'm in the same boat as you. As soon as Gambit is gone from the comics, so am I. I'll stick with writin' my own endin's. It's so hard to watch my favourite character and couple completely decimated. Marvel. Grrr.

Anamarie: This bit cheer ya up a little? ;) Rogue is in a difficult position because she can offer comfort, but can't make him accept it. She doesn't wanna push too hard, too fast. Poor darlin'.

BJ2: Not exactly an emotional storm, but I hope ya made it through. Hee, I'm so totally amused that you were actually talkin' to your screen in the last part. Thanks bunches!

WhytMajic: Aww, come on, hon! Ya know ya love me. Ya gotta to put up with me for as long as ya have. ;) And yes, sleeping in socks is evil. So uncomfortable. But wait... _less_ angsty?

Tammy: Actually, not quite the end. I hope I didn't ruin it for ya with these last two chapters of the day;I just couldn't leave things the way they were. I can't remember the mood I was in when I wrote this, but that usually seems to be the deciding factor. So glad you're enjoyin', and curiosity is a good thing in my book.


	9. Part 9

She couldn't stop. Now that Remy was taken care of and settled in for the night, now that she had no further distractions from her thoughts, the tears just wouldn't stop falling. She cried for herself, she cried for him and she cried for all the lives that had been senselessly lost and completely ruined during Apocalypse's short reign of terror. So much death, so much pain, and all for what? There really was no happy ending.

She tried to keep her sobs quiet, turning her head to muffle them with her pillow, but the emotions that continued to pour from her heart refused to be silenced. That is, until he moved. Taking a deep, gasp of air, she held her breath and waited, her tear filled eyes closed tightly as she kept her body completely still. Maybe he hadn't heard her; maybe he was simply shifting in his sleep. This is how it seemed as he made no sound or further movements. Slowly releasing her breath, she willed her body not to shake with the effort, but she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt the sudden touch of his hand on her arm.

Rogue's eyes snapped open and, for a moment, she could do nothing but stare into the darkened corner of the room opposite her. Had she fallen asleep without realizing it? Earlier she wasn't even sure if Remy had even acknowledged her presence in his mind, and now... was this real? It had to be real.

_Please, let it be real._

Hesitantly, she reached up, letting her gloved fingers slide over his. It was real; she could feel the chill of his hand through the thin fabric. His hand was like ice, but it was really there. What did this mean? She was almost scared to roll over and look at him, afraid of what she might see; afraid of the disappointment if it wasn't what she expected.

_What are ya waitin' for? Now is not tha time ta reject him._

Slowly she rolled over to lie on her back and even slower she turned her head to gaze upon his face. What she saw shocked her to silence. His face wasn't averted, his eyes weren't closed; when she looked at him, he actually met her eyes.

God, how she loved those eyes. So dark, so beautiful. He could so easily hide all his thoughts and emotions behind them on any normal day, but it was the times that he left himself open that she felt she could fall into them. They were so expressive. They sparkled with mischief, glowed with anger, or, like now, swam with such immeasurable hurt that she felt it deep down in her gut. Pain, regret, hopelessness, fear, but above all else, there was guilt. But he was there, no longer so disconnected. He was there, reaching for her, needing her. There was no doubt any longer.

She had made the right decision.

She didn't need to use her powers to know how he was feeling or what he was thinking. It was all there in his eyes, painted on his face clear as day. The fact that he felt anything gave her hope that they could work through this. If he closed himself off, she didn't know what she could do to help, but if he gave, even just the slightest bit, and allowed her to help him, then there was hope. There was always hope. The part of her that had felt so dead inside when he'd joined Apocalypse was reborn.

Brushing the damp hair gently from his eyes, she finally allowed herself to breathe again when they drifted closed. She half expected him to pull away and turn his back on her once more, but it seemed the night was full of surprises, even if it had taken so long to get to the good ones. She felt her skin tingle when he slid his arm around her waist and her heartbeat speed up as he laid his head upon her chest. This was the most intimate they had been since the gift of touch had been taken away from them, and although it saddened her that it had taken such a tragic event to bring them this close, she reveled in the feel of his body against hers.

Time. All they needed was time and they would get through this. No, there was more to it than that. Things would have to change. They would have to talk eventually, really talk. No more ignoring the problems between them until they festered and mutated into something ugly and impenetrable. They would have to be open and willing to work through all their issues. Remy had a lot to deal with, and she knew the guilt would never completely go away, but she would be there, every step of the way, to help him learn to function with it.

Slowly and repetitively she stroked her hands through his hair, smiling softly as his breathing evened out signifying his passage into sleep. Such a beautiful package for such a ravaged soul. Unable to stop herself, Rogue lifted her head and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head through his hair, careful not to wake him. She could already see the change in the light outside as the sun slowly rose, bringing with it a new day. A new life. Another chance.

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A/N: And this concludes the events of the first night. 'bout damn time, eh? I blame Rogue. She didn't wanna tell me her side of the story. Wanted to keep it all to herself, so this bit might feel a little off as I had to force it outta her ;D Any of y'all see X3? The endin' of that almost begs for a story, don't it? And now, onward to the reviews!

Loneraven: Glad it made ya happy, hon.

ishandahalf:Aww, no worries. I like rambling. ;) Yeah, I thoughtit would be Rogue that would have todo all the work, so Gambit surprised me when he was the one to make the move in that last bit. Love that it warmed your heart.

Tammy: I love that scene in the comics! Remy's sense ofhumour is a big part of why I love him so much. I miss it. I hopehe regains some of it soon. As for the question regarding possible setbacks, I bet WhytMajic could answer that. She knows how I work. heh.

Rogue181: Glad ya enjoyed it!

Rogue14: Ain't he, though? hugsRemy as well

mazdamiatta: Sadly, nothing like this happened, though the events leading up to it did. I'm embellishing on Remy's actionsas Death, but the fact that he did choose tojoin Apocalypse and be one of theHorsemen did actually happen in the comics. This is just my take on how it shoulda ended for these two.

WhytMajic: Glad ya agree with my choice.And yes, that is some very good advice. Smart woman, yourmother. ;D


	10. Part 10

_His head snapped to the side as another strong blow was delivered. He had to hand it to the little snot, he had some power behind those punches. In the long run, that wouldn't help him, though. What he lacked was conviction, purpose and scepticism. He followed too blindly, so the end that Death had planned for him would be all too fitting._

_Another punch, this one bringing the taste of blood to his tongue and a smirk to his black lips. The boy was getting cocky; he thought he had this battle won. It was time to deal the winning hand._

_Death was on his knees on the ground, his white hair covering his face when Pulse grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him to his feet._

"_Not so tough when you don't have your powers to hide behind, are you?" he taunted, a confidence he had never known before sounding clearly in his voice. A confidence that was shattered when Death raised his head to reveal red eyes, burning with fire, and a maniacal grin that sent chills down the other man's spine. Suddenly, his wrists were seized in a painfully strong grip and his hold on the coat released._

"_You think I need my powers to defeat you?" Death asked, punching Pulse hard in the jaw. The blonde man reeled sideways, falling to the ground. Before he could regain his footing he cried out in pain as a sharp kick was delivered to his side, the heavy boot cracking one of his ribs. "Was I supposed to lie down like a dog and take it because I did not have my powers to rely on?"_

_A boot to the face, shattering his nose. Death could already feel his powers returning, powers enhanced by Apocalypse to their full potential._

"_My master gave me more power than a lowly weakling like you could ever imagine. I do not just cause death; I _**am**_ Death."_

_A kick to the stomach so powerful that Pulse felt that he may never regain his breath. It was obvious now that he had been played. This... this... _**thing**_ was stronger than he ever could have imagined. Suddenly, he felt the weight of Death pressing down on him as the monster straddled his waist, pinning him to the ground. _

"_Do you want to know how it feels to be powerless?" Death growled, his eyes flashing intensely as he delivered another fist to his victim's jaw. Everywhere but the eyes. He needed the eyes open._

"_Please..." Pulse whispered, his voice choking on the blood in his throat from that last hit. But his plea fell upon deaf ears. No, that is not entirely true. His plea was heard, but it had the opposite effect as intended. Pleas for mercy only amused Death and fuelled his desire to torture in hopes of hearing more. His only response was to laugh; a cold, cruel, terrifying laugh that silenced any further pleas. A laugh that only grew louder and wilder with the horrific screams as he held Pulse's eyelid back and drove his finger behind the eye..._

Gasping loudly, Remy's eyes shot open in terror.

_It was jus' a dream. Jus' a dream_, he tried to reassure himself, but it didn't fade quickly like dreams usually do. The pictures remained so vivid in his mind, more like a true memory than just a memory of a dream.

But he was awake now, and everything was fine. He could feel his heart hammering swiftly in his chest, the cold sweat on his forehead, the hand running softly through his hair...

_Wait a second... _

He wasn't alone. He was curled up next to a warm body. This wasn't his room. With a loud yelp, Remy wrenched himself free from the warm embrace and tumbled gracelessly out of bed, hitting the floor hard. With wide eyes, he looked quickly around the room before they fell upon the dishevelled figure in the bed that was looking upon him with deep concern.

Rogue.

It was at that moment that everything came rushing back with painful clarity. It hadn't been just a dream. It was all real. As the weight of his actions crashed down upon him anew, he buried his face in his hands and cried out in anguish. It wasn't quite as bad as the first time, when he had first been transformed back and still had the blood of his victims on his hands to drive their point home, but it still tore at his very soul. He felt Rogue touch his arm but he pulled away. She shouldn't be here, he would only ruin her. Ruin her like he ruined everything he touched. He was poison; deadly; Death...

No. He was Death no more. What Death had done in a few days Remy LeBeau would spend the remainder of his life paying for. He could never make up for it but, damn it, he was going to try. Taking a few deep breaths, Remy tried to slow his racing heart and push back the flood of emotions that had rushed to the surface. This time when Rogue reached out for him, he didn't push her away.

"Shh, baby, it's alright. Ya're just a little disoriented is all," she said softly. Slowly, he nodded his head to let her know he heard and understood her. "Why don't ya come back ta bed for a bit. It's still early yet."

The words were so... normal; the kind of words any normal couple would use on a normal day. But this wasn't a normal day, and they were far from a normal couple. Despite this, Remy didn't argue. Allowing her to pull him gently by the hand, he crawled back onto the bed but he didn't regain his previous position. Instead he curled up with his back to her, staring at the photograph once more. After a long moment of silence he heard Rogue sigh deeply behind him before her weight shifted from the bed.

"Ah'm gonna take a quick run ta tha store ta get a few things while ya rest. Be back in a jiffy," she said, rounding the foot of the bed. Through slitted eyes, Remy watched as she removed a hooded sweater from the duffle bag and pulled it on over her head, effectively hiding her unique hair. Dropping a pair of flip flops to the floor, she slipped them on her feet and was out the door.

Silently, he wondered if he'd ever stop worrying every time she walked out the door and left him behind if that would be the last glimpse he'd ever have of her.

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A/N: Hee! Before I added the separater and this author's note, this chapter had exactly 1111 words in it. Yes, I'm easily amused. Another thing that amused me? Well, not so much amused me as made me squeal? I broke into double digit reviews with that last chapter! 10 reviews! eeeee! Ahem. Anyways, totally loved writin' this bit. Love writin' the angst and the sap, of course, but damn if I don't love writin' evil, nasty scenes. mwahahaha! Now, before this gets too outta hand, on to the reviews!

BJ2: You're just tryin' to make me cry now, ain't ya? sniff Considering your views on Rogue, Gambit/Rogue and fanfics, your reviews always mean a lot. I love that I can remind you of what an awesome character Rogue used to be, and that Romy still has potential if they were only given the chance. glomps So much love.

Loneraven: An X4 would be lovely, eh? Actually, at this point, I'd prefer a spinoff that dropped some characters coughWolverinecough so the new characters could actually get some screen time and development.

rogueishLeia: Oh man, this is so weird. Curious about your name, I looked up your profile and it was so like lookin' in a mirror. Gambit/Rogue are my favourite couple in any fandom, totally adore Han/Leia and Lost is my new obsession just these past few months, and I adore the Sawyer/Kate dynamic. If that ain't enough, the love of rock music and Audrey Hepburn? squee That is so me. Creep. Spooky, even. ;) Anyways, glad you're enjoyin' the story and hope ya like this new Remy centered bit!

Anamarie: I made ya happy? beams Don't mind me, I'm overly hyper from lack of sleep. heh. Anyways, glad ya got the feel I was goin' for. I can see the scene in my head and as I played it out I found myself holding my breath during parts of it. I'm so glad that it translated well to the page. thanks bunches!

Rogue181: About time, eh? Talk about a long night!

Tammy: Glad you enjoyed seein' the other side of the coin here. I also wonder when they'll start talkin' again. They don't like to share any inside info with me until it's time to play it out.

ishandahalf: Yeah, the first night is always the hardest. Glad you liked the image painted there. As for X3, yeah, I have ideas though I dunno if I'll ever get around to writin' them. I have this list of one shots that I wanna do that just keeps growin'. We'll see.

WhytMajic: hee, I made ya squee! Look darlin', another chapter! And ya only had to gently prod once ta get it! ;)

toomakeyoulaugh: Welcome to my little world. ;) I love that ya just sat down and read the whole thing. Glad you're enjoyin' it!

Rogue14: How many more nights? I have no idea. I don't really have any plans for this fic, I just write it as it comes to me. As long as the inspiration keeps comin', the nights'll keep passin', I spose. And look, a long chapter! hee.


	11. Part 11

Approaching the counter with an arm load of supplies, Rogue let them fall haphazardly onto the slightly dingy surface before offering the elderly gent at the register a tired smile. She hadn't slept a wink the entire night and very little the past few days at least, and she knew that it would all catch up to her, sooner rather than later.

The store was a decent size, and she had managed to find most of what she needed that morning. Garbage bags, sponges, cleaner, gloves, but sadly no toothbrushes, toothpaste or mouthwash. Some of that whitening gum would have to do until they got into town to do some real shopping. She had also grabbed a few snacks in hopes that she could convince Remy to eat something.

He had slept peacefully in her arms for a few short hours, but they had been the best hours she'd experienced for weeks. She wanted to be strong for him, but he made it obvious that when it came down to it, she didn't need to keep up the act all the time. She was allowed her moments to break, and despite the situation, the night had comforted her as much as she hoped it had him. If only it could have lasted.

Rogue had been surprised when Remy had so frantically scrambled out of the embrace, falling roughly to the floor. He looked so lost and frightened, and she couldn't seem to make herself move. She had only been able to stare at him in concern until his disorientation was replaced by realization, then anguish. His cry shaking her from her frozen position, she had reached out to him, offering the comfort of a touch, however shielded it was, and damn if it hadn't hurt when he'd shrugged her off. The night before he had allowed her to look into his eyes, gaze into his soul, and it was like all that progression had faded with the night. She wasn't about to give up, though. She gave him the time he needed, taking the time herself to bottle her emotions, and only when his current grief began to pass did she try again. That time he didn't refuse.

She had spoke to him softly, and helped him back into bed, but her comfort was no longer welcome. Not able to just sit there and be ignored again, she had decided it was time to go. There were things they had needed before they could check out, and she had needed some air; some space.

As almost an afterthought, Rogue grabbed one last item off the rack on the counter and added it to her pile. Paying the clerk, she stuffed her wallet back in the pocket of her sweater and grabbed her bags. Her wardrobe definitely left a lot to be desired, but her appearance was the least of her worries. Making her way back to the room, she concentrated on the rhythmic slapping sound her flip flops made with each step. She hoped it would make the walk longer, but she arrived back all too soon. Would it ever get any easier? It was getting harder each time she had to go back to him instead of just walking away, but she had made her choice. Taking a few deep breaths, she forced herself to reenter the room. Remy was no longer curled up in the fetal position, but the sight that greeted her definitely struck her as odd. He was sitting in the centre of the bed, the contents of the duffle bag scattered around him. No, it wasn't scattered. He had sorted everything into piles and was now taking his time in folding the clothing, each crease perfectly straight. After each item was folded, he placed it carefully back in the bag. It appeared that he had even designated one side for her clothing and the other for his.

Watching him with an odd expression for a few minutes, Rogue eventually closed the door and set the bags on the bureau. Taking something from the bag, she moved over to stand in front of him. He didn't stop folding, nor did he look up at her.

"Ah see ya found somethin' ta occupy your time while Ah was gone," she said, trying to keep her tone lighthearted. "Ah got ya a little somethin' at tha store."

Holding out the pair of dark sunglasses to him she watched as he stopped folding, his head rising slightly. He reached out and took the shades from her. Turning them in his hands so that the lenses faced him, he unfolded them, looking them over. She hated that he had to hide his beautiful eyes from the world, but under the current circumstances, she had the feeling he wouldn't mind nearly as much. Slowly he turned the glasses over in his hands again and, ducking his head, placed them on his face. Then, and only then, did he look up at her; she could see nothing beyond the cold, black plastic of the lenses.

"Lookin' good, sugah," she said with a wink. Did his mouth just twitch? Could that have been the hint of a smile? No, just wishful thinking. Smiling warmly at him despite the sadness in her eyes, Rogue waited until he resumed his task before grabbing the bag of supplies and heading for the bathroom.

"Ah'm just gonna get everything all cleaned up in here then we can take off, do some real shoppin', alright?" she said. For the briefest moment he paused, his body stiffening before he began folding again. He knew what she had to clean. The blood on the floor, his tattered costume to dispose of; physical reminders of the tormenting memories he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Still, not a peep was heard from his lips. It was like talking to a wall, but she felt if she kept trying, if he could hear the love and comfort in her voice that eventually he would come around. What she wouldn't give to hear a single word from his lips, the silky smooth accent that could still make her body tingle after all these years.

Giving Remy one last look, Rogue entered the washroom and set about her task. Rolling up the sleeves of her sweater, she slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and gathered up the scraps of clothing, tossing it all in a large garbage bag. She would have to find a place to dispose of it later, a garbage bin where a little fire wouldn't raise any eyebrows. She proceeded to clean every inch of the bathroom: the floor, the tiles, the tub, the toilet; only when the room was spotless did she stop. Tossing the sponge and gloves into the garbage bag as well, she headed back to the bedroom. The trashcan had been placed right outside the door, the bloody washcloth and her gloves from the previous night within. The duffle bag was closed and ready to go on the dresser; the towels folded perfectly and the bed made up better than it had been when they arrived.

Emptying the trash into the bag as well, Rogue tied it off and replaced her own gloves on her hands. Crossing over to where Remy sat on the very corner of the bed, she hefted the duffle bag with her other hand.

"Let's go, sugah."

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I kinda sorta vanished for a bit. Sorry! I do most of my writing on Sunday, but with this new job I've been working every Sunday lately and haven't written anything new (other than my X3 one-shot). This is the last pre-written chapter, then I gotta figure where I'm goin' next and see what I come up with. Sorry for the wait!

ishandahalf: The last line was my favourite bit too. If I was in either of their positions, I think I'd be having the same doubts. Will she return? They're both doubting the same thing.

Loneraven: Don't even get me started on Wolverine. I've ranted about him in the movies before. ;D And by all means, hug away! He sure looks like he could use it.

mazdamiatta: What can I say? I am the angst monger! ;)

Tammy: Glad you find it touching. Any response from poor Rems at this point gotta be worth somethin'. As for where we're goin', I haven't decided yet. I might continue on with this next day, maybe work on bringin' in that guest star.

Anamarie: Hee, loved your review! Rogue better watch her step, eh? Angry reviewers can be vengeful. Hopefully it won't come to that.

Rogue181: Wow, you were that absorbed? ego is stroked Thanks for the review!

rogueishLeia: I love fluff as much as the next person, but I'm much more comfortable diggin' into the dark meat, so to speak. And I know, right? Totally freaky.

Rogue14: Sorry I'm hurtin' ya, hon. If it helps, it totally kills me to torture him so (though part of me loves it. I'm awful).

WhytMajic: I had hoped to have a bunch posted before ya got back, but you've already been gone goin' on two weeks, and this is the first update. Sad. Anyways, glad you enjoyed the direction, there. Rogue just needed to get away. Now why don't ya put down the pokey stick and play nice? ;) Hope your trip is goin' awesome!

Also, I want to thank Loneraven, WhytMajic, Jean1 and BJ2 for their reviews of Be Careful what You Wish For. As it's a one shot, I won't get chance to thank them in that story.


	12. Part 12

A/N: After another extended absence, I come bearing an extra long chapter. More drabble of explanation at the end. Enjoy!

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There was only so much staring at a door and waiting for it to open that one mind can take. For Remy LeBeau, it was about five minutes. He couldn't stay in bed forever, waiting for her, because there was the distinct possibility that she'd never return. The very thought terrified him, but if that was how it played out, he wouldn't blame her. If he was in her shoes, he wasn't so sure he wouldn't leave him either.

Unable to lie there any longer he got up and instantly walked over to the dresser. Lifting the duffle bag from the damaged surface, he went back to the bed, sitting right in the centre of it. Chaos, disorder; the clothing was in such disarray that it kept nagging him. He had never been anything resembling a 'clean freak' before, but now... a lot of things had changed.

When he had chosen to become Death, he had given up control completely. Control of his mind, his body; he had no ability to think, he was just a killing machine. Death by name, Death by creation, Death by his actions. Now he was back in control, of his body at least. His mind was still questionable. What if the damage was more lasting than they thought? Was it possible for Death to take over again? He could still see the image in the mirror, even if nobody else could. What if the bloodlust was lurking just below the surface?

He needed something he could control. He needed a task, one that he could focus on, one that he could complete. Then another. Then another. He needed to focus. He needed to be in control. Focus. Control. If he could take control of his surroundings, change chaos into order, maybe his mind would follow.

Tipping the duffle bag upside down, Remy gave it a shake, watching the contents spill all around him. The chaos was no longer confined to the bag. Things sometimes got worse before they got better. With one last glance at the door, he began sorting the items. His clothes, her clothes, random items she'd tossed in. Once everything was sorted, he started folding. Each seam was lined up perfectly, the creases from the folds made crisp. He tried to smooth out the wrinkles some of the fabrics bore with his hands, but some were too stubborn to obey. Nothing was perfect, he had to learn to live with it.

After what felt like hours, he caught a dark shadow moving by the window out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leapt. She had returned.

Lowering his head, he focused harder on his task, listening intently for the sound of the door. It took a moment longer than expected, but eventually Rogue entered the room with a flourish and then she stopped. Remy kept folding. Focus. Control.

Another few hours seemed to pass before she recovered and approached him. He kept folding. Only when she spoke to him and held out her hand did he cease his movements. She'd gotten him something. He had doubted her returning at all, and she had been thinking enough about him to get him a gift. It hurt.

Raising his head slightly, Remy peered out through his dishevelled hair at her hand, and the item she held. Sunglasses. Taking them from her without hesitation, he turned them in his hands, inspecting them. The lenses were dark and would hide his eyes perfectly; hide them from the world, and hide them from her. Had it bothered her that much to see his eyes last night that she was giving him the means with which to hide them? Slipping them on his face, he looked up at her. For a split second he saw something in her expression that gave him his answer.

No. She wanted to see his eyes; she wanted him to trust her with his deepest secrets, to share with her his pain. It was the rest of the world, it was he himself, that wasn't ready.

Then the moment passed and he saw something in her that he hadn't seen in a long while. He saw a hint of the playful side, the flirt, that had drawn him to her in the very beginning, before everything had gotten so deep, so complicated, and he smiled. It was mostly on the inside, but the hint was there. Oh, how he missed those days. And then she was gone, into the bathroom again. Couldn't think; couldn't think about what she had to clean up. Clean up his mess, what very little of it she could. Had to focus. Focus. Control.

He finished folding and packing. He didn't bother to change, instead just slipping his feet into some old trainers she'd packed. He made the bed, gathered the garbage, and then he waited. Time seemed to move so slowly. A few more hours felt like they passed before Rogue emerged from the bathroom. Watching her tie up the trash and move to the door with a bag in each hand, he reached out and took their luggage from her without a word and opened the door so they could pass. He didn't touch the garbage bag though he couldn't keep his eyes off it.

The neighbourhood was far from the high class end of town they were used to, so disposing of evidence wasn't a difficult task. Having tossed the plastic bag of fabric covered in blood and sin into a large dumpster, Rogue had set it ablaze and after a moment of watching, they'd simply walked away.

If only he could dispose of the memories so easily. He wished he could burn them from his mind, scorch them from his soul, but he knew they would remain until he died. He could not be cleansed by fire, it would only serve to bury the scars deeper, layers upon layers of scars until that was all that remained. Scars that would never heal.

The next task on their list was one that most men dreaded: shopping.

Like most men, this was not something he enjoyed to partake of. Being a thief by trade, it just seemed wrong somehow. But unlike most men, he found shopping with Rogue much more tolerable, even if his sole purpose was to carry the bags. He used to complain at Christmas time, and she would always tell him to hush up, but they both knew it was all for fun. He had to pretend to hate it to uphold his image, and she was determined not to make it easy on him. And easy it wasn't. It was hard to act grumpy and annoyed while she flitted about, squealing excitedly and talking animatedly about how much so and so would love this or that.

This would be nothing like that, though, he was certain. They weren't shopping for other people, but for themselves, and not because they wanted to but because they had to. They'd left everything behind. It was a chance to start fresh, but what they lacked in physical baggage they made up for emotionally in spades.

Fortunately, Rogue didn't drag him to the mall. They hopped the bus and instead chose to poke around some of the smaller shops that lined the streets. Less crowded, a fact that Remy was eternally grateful for. Also fortunately, Rogue knew what size clothes he wore, so he didn't have to do much more than stand there while she held clothes up against him and made faces.

It was almost like old times, and for a few moments here and there he found himself forgetting. Forgetting the present and remembering the past. During those times, if she could see his eyes, she would have noticed a certain spark in them that was long since missing.

"Ooh!" Rogue suddenly exclaimed, forgetting herself and grabbing Remy's hand, dragging him toward another part of the store. There it was, the excited squeal, the way her face lit up when she saw a gift she simply knew someone would love. He almost laughed. Almost. As it was, a genuine smile graced his expression for a brief moment, a moment she missed as she led him toward the coats.

It appeared the gift was for him.

Stopping when she released his hand, he watched in fascination as she fingered the sleeve of a leather duster, brown in colour. Running her gloved hands over it, she silently brushed the cuff against her cheek, closing her eyes at the feel of the soft leather against her skin. A wistful smile, a soft sigh; he could only imagine the memories that were drifting through her head. For a moment he wished that one article of clothing could transport them back in time before banishing the idea and its stupidity.

Then she was pulling the coat from the hanger and advancing on him.

His duster had always been his trademark, useful for a million reasons, a second skin. But now it was lost, just like him. He wished it was that easy, but he wasn't the man he used to be. He was different, changed, and wearing one so similar now would be a lie, a mask.

Oh, but what a comforting one it would be.

Comfort, security; this was why he didn't fight her, why he obediently assisted her as she helped him into the coat. Slowly turning back to face her, the expression she wore almost stopped his heart. It was impossible to describe and he quickly looked away, self consciously adjusting the coat. Self consciousness? Now that was new, but she was staring at him, still staring at him. Unsure what to do with himself, he remarkably found himself falling back on old habits he thought long since dead. Pursing his lips, he popped the collar on the coat with one slick movement. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he turned his head to peer over the high collar at her with shielded eyes.

For a moment she only stared, her eyes wet, her expression... haunted? Hopeful? It was hard to tell, another fact that hurt. He used to be able to read her so easily. As the sales girl approached, he watched Rogue mentally shake herself.

"We'll take it," she choked out, unshed tears obvious in her voice.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Rogue's excitement had diminished considerably and the trench coat made it a little harder for her to get a feel for the clothes she held against him. She didn't even bother to try on her own clothes, something she once loved to do. He remembered a time when she'd pick the wildest clothing just so she could see his reaction when she modelled them for him in the store.

And one time when things had gotten a little... out of hand in the changing room when he had insisted on assisting her to change...

Once the shopping was finished their final stop was a hotel, something more upscale than the hole in the wall motel they'd stayed in the night previous. They stumbled through the door of the suite, both weighed down with numerous bags and packages. Dinner was provided by room service and eaten in silence, and when Rogue had gone for her shower, Remy curled up on the plush chesterfield, flipping on the television for some noise to fill the silent room, to fill his head.

Still he wore the coat.

He refused to take it off. It was a comfort, a security blanket of sorts. He held it tighter around himself, seeking the comfort, but at the same time he loathed it and what it represented. It represented the life he had thrown away, the man he had once been and would never be again. He had done many horrible things in his life but even all those combined were overshadowed by Death. Death who destroyed all that was good, who lived in darkness and extinguished all that was light.

Remy hated what he had become, and he hated what he had been because he could never go back. But still he wore the coat, still he huddled into its warmth, into the distinct smell of new leather, as he finally drifted to sleep.

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A/N: Alright, so this chapter is... odd. I wrote the first half before reading X-Men #187, and after a week or so of depression and whining, I wrote the other half just today. Not sure how I feel about this one, but I do know how I feel about Marvel right about now. Grrr... Anyways, I know it doesn't flow, but I hope the next one'll be better. I also keep gettin' ideas for more one shots, so we'll see how that goes. On to the reviews! Yar!

LoneRaven: I can't stay dark and depressin' all the time. Gotta give them a break once in a while, eh? ;D I really enjoyed writin' the lighter bits of this one. Some of the shoppin' parts just beg for elaboration in story form, hence another idea for a one shot I got.

mazdamiatta: good? That depends on your perspective. It's better than starin' at the wall, but depends on your feelin's on his thoughts behind it. I hope they came across the way I intended. One of those cases of knowing what I wanted to say, but not how to put it into words.

Tammy: Loved all your theories behind the folding thing. Good guesses, and it seems your first one was pretty close. ;D Wolverine? I kinda pictured him bein' in Africa at this point in time, but since he does have the mutant ability to be everywhere at once... you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. Methinks that'll be the one where said guest star pops up. ;D

Rogue14: Yeah, I work some Sundays. I work in maintenance in a factory, and Sundays are the one day a week when the machines don't run all day, so it's the one day we get to go out and get work done on said machines to prevent problems in the future, or to fix problems that have been reported. Sorry again for the wait. I'm still alive, yes, but I suspect my updates will be quite a bit slower than the twice a week I started out with, regrettably.

Anamarie: Poor guy, eh? So screwed up. pets Remy I hope he'll give up the shades soon as well, at least around her.

Rogue181: Aww, thanks hon! Always does an author's heart good to hear that their story manages to draw you in.

piccolajules: Thanks bunches, darlin'! Ya just made my day. Glad ya found the fic and you're enjoyin' it so much.


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